I don't love you, And other lies
by Brexxlet
Summary: A job, a past she'd like to forget, a personal vendetta, and the most annoying being on earth come to haunt Ginny Potter. Draco Malfoy pops out of the shadows to claim what's rightfully Ginny's. Oh, yeah, and her husband is no help, either.
1. Prologue: Those Bloody Sappy Stories

Disclaimer: All characters in this story, aside from non-HP (original) characters and plot, are the sole creations of JK Rowling and belong to their respective proprietors. Don't sue me. I'm poor. You wouldn't gain a penny from it if you did.

**Prologue**

For those in search of a sappy story, those that often have happy endings; this is not your sort of story. Please cease and stop from going any further. This is not for you. The world is already full of happy stories, happy endings, and too many extremely unbelievable tales.

"Too many bloody sappy stories," I muttered over and over. It had become a mantra in less than an hour. Now the phrase was practically all I had said to, well, _anyone_ in that period of time. My fingers kept on slamming the pen on the desk repeatedly in a near manic manner. I'm pretty sure that if I had kept that up, I'd soon chip the lacquer on the desk, not that I really cared. It wasn't that I was unaware of the furtive, dirty looks my colleagues were shooting in my direction; it was just that I simply didn't give a pixie's ass. Perhaps I was disturbing the peace (or as much as you could get at 2PM in the Ministry of Magic), but if I was, then I'll pat myself on the back and go back to leaving my angry mark on my desk.

It usually doesn't take long to get me angered. I admit that it is one of my faults. I have the temper of a firecracker and it's easy to get me seeing red, but this time I was livid. Frightened, Saddened, Disappointed, Shocked… any feeling that ranges somewhere in a spectrum between anger and sadness would quite well describe what I was going through. If I was disrupting anyone else's peace and quiet, then well… My own peace of mind was completely ruined for the day. Misery loves company, they say.

Sappy stories… they never ended the way you wanted them to, did they? I could feel it inside me, bubbling, boiling, red and hot and rising. The quiet before the storm had quickly passed by as I stared at the note in front of me. A piece of parchment, neatly unfolded, stared back at me on my desk. How I wish that it had been blank, but it wasn't. It had words that I dreaded. My eyes started itching, and soon started hurting. I assume it dawned on my employees that they should be giving me a wide girth, for they certainly were: and a very wide one at that.

I should have burned it. It's the most _ridiculous_ thing I've _ever_ landed my eyes upon. Was this some sort of joke? Just in case, I looked at the calendar. No, it wasn't April's Fool day. Rage, hot and alive, and shooting through my veins; Perhaps it would be wise if I just took out my wand and burned it, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do so. Call it masochistic, but for the third time in my life, I didn't want to believe it. So instead, I willed it to disappear with my non-existent mental power. It didn't go away. The parchment stared back at me, its messy message laughing in my face: mocking, prideful, singing in glee of heartbreak - Yet another one.

Ginny Potter – a successful, independent woman, or at least that's what I like to see myself as. And here I was, the supposedly successful woman, throwing internal fits like a little girl while sitting on my office, carving my anger onto my desk. I wish I had had something to just hex, my bat boogie hex might have come in handy. Perhaps a subject to use it on might have been useful, too.

See, I by no means think that I'm obnoxious… Proud? Yes; Stubborn? Absolutely. But never conceited. When dad came into the ministry of magic with his mind set on becoming the Minister, I applauded him. When he actually _became_ the Minister of Magic, I congratulated him, and was as happy as anyone else in my family. But when he offered that I work at the ministry…well, let's just say my dreams didn't lie there.

I wanted to fly, I wanted to soar the skies on a broomstick, knock a few people off theirs, and score points to become one of the best Quidditch female players in history. Instead, I landed myself in the Ministry after Hogwarts. It isn't so bad, I will admit… it's taken painstaking work, and it's hard to keep my temper under control what with the idiots that sometimes make their way into my office. In general, though, I'd like to think I've done a good job. And then I married Harry Potter…the bloody Boy Who Lived. Happy is an understatement, thrilled, ecstatic, might have been more adequate. I always had adored him, always watched him, always the shy little girl.

Well, not anymore. It took busting my tush but here I am: Ginny Potter, Deputy Ministress of Magic of the Wizarding World. That was my title… well, up until now. The parchment, still blankly staring at me, bore less than pleasant news. It was from Harry, who had been acting rather edgy and weird for the past few months, and whose temperament and behavior was on a stairway to heaven, blown out of proportions. And said parchment had me livid:

"_Ginny,_

_I…I do not know how to begin this letter. I suppose, I should begin at the beginn--…I…._

_Well, Gin, you know I've never been able to lie to you._

_We've shared so much together: So many adventures... And you've been a faithful and loving companion for the past three years we've been together. It's just… Blame it on my nature, but I have to admit that I'm...Well, jealous. I'm jealous that you've gotten this far. Our confrontations over petty matters have only escalated these past few months. Truth is: I love you, but I don't feel like I love you enough._

_I'm sorry if my honesty in this letter is hurting you, but I figured it'd hurt you anyway… I often cannot stand that your work gets in the way of our relationship. It's always "the ministry this" and "the ministry that," and never "us" anymore. And that I've become 'Ginny's husband' rather than Harry Potter. I will admit I am too bloody chicken to confront you with this through a note… But…that said…_

_I want a divorce._

_I will be returning to my flat tonight. You're more than welcome to keep our--…the house._

_I'm so sorry, Ginny._

_Forgive me,_

_Harry."_

He had to be kidding me. Was he jealous? Jealous of what? His own wife?! Harry couldn't possibly be feeling like a forgotten hero now because of _me_! Could he…? He had always been the boy who lived, the guy everyone (including me) looked up to, the amazing seeker and poster child for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm very aware that I've come far, but it was never because I was gifted. It was because I worked hard... And here he was feeling _jealous_? Maybe he was pulling a Mickey on me.

All I could do now was sit back and stare ahead. The ceiling to floor glass doors and windows gave me the privilege of keeping a close watch on my employees from my office. I wasn't, by any means, doing that. My eyes weren't registering the furtive looks from said employees anymore. They were getting blurry with unshed tears that burned at my tear ducts, fighting a battle that I was losing to try and force their way out. Neither did they register the cloaked figure and pair of slim legs walking towards me, nor when the door opened without a knock. I turned my stare towards the little edge of the desk where the note rested.

I snapped, looking at the door. Apparently the two beings in my room had followed my gaze to the crumpled note, too.

"Didn't your parents teach you bloody manners?" The words came rather loudly and heatedly out of my lips. Some people outside my office winced, and then scurried off. My speech stopped when I noticed that the figure standing there was not that of a random employee, but of my personal assistant.

Pavarti Patil had been working with me for as long as I could remember. Actually, I _could_ remember. It had only been a few months back when I got appointed deputy. I was in the dire need to find someone I could rely on, whom I knew at least a pinch, and Pavarti was the only one available. The position was offered to Hermione first, who had turned it down on the excuse that she would much rather stay at home now that she was pregnant with Ron's and her first child. Between that time and now, Pavarti had become as close a friend as she had a co-worker rather than an employee.

At times I felt bad for Pavarti. Her sister had left to …somewhere on the other side of Europe, leaving her alone. The woman might be a year older than I, but I felt a connection: likelihood, if you'd like. I, too, knew what it was to like to have close beings go away. My own friends had left after the war, and Hermione was too busy with her two babies, the unborn one and the grown up, annoying one by the name of Ron.

"Hi, Ginny. I have M--… Oh! Is there something wrong?" Pavarti had a way of reading my face, although I'm quite sure the grotesque picture of red hair and fiery red cheeks might give that away to anyone, "I can push the meeting for later."

Lively she might be when visiting me, but at work she was as shy as anyone.

A look of confusion plastered on her face, she turned to leave and usher whoever it was out along with her. "  
Before I could open my lips to say a thing, the person pushed past Pavarti. Seriously, how rude.

"No need," was all I heard. Blinking back my tears, I tried to assume composure as quick as possible. Trust me, it isn't as easy as it sounds (or looks, for that matter). At the moment, all I wanted to do was snap. But my vision cleared… no wonder the person had sounded so snobbish: The tall figure, the arrogant stance, the squared shoulders, and blonde locks of meticulously combed hair… a groomed face, and a trademark smirk. Nowhere else could I possibly find such combination: Malfoy.

Maybe he was sent from hell so I could use that hex I had so badly wanted to use before.

"Ugh… it's you," I tried to relax, but I'm pretty sure Malfoy read through me as I felt my own left eyebrow twitch lightly. His own face was the definition of steely calmness. My muscles were tense enough that I could feel the little knots forming in my back. Trying not to clench my fists was a task on its own. The last thing I needed was Draco Malfoy.

It wouldn't have annoyed me as much… had I not been in such a predicament. With other things to think about, however, and the current state of my nerves, anything and everything about Draco bloody Malfoy reminded me of the prat in school years ago, rather than the man in front of him. And what a man he had turned out to b--…_Snap out of it, Ginny!_

"That's a lovely way to welcome back an old acquaintance, Weasel."

"Ginny, if you want, I can get him to leave…" Pavarti offered.

"Patil, please do feel free to dispose yourself out of here right about now."

The poor woman wasn't given the chance to finish her sentence correctly. Draco Malfoy had a knack for being a self righteous idiot. I could swear I felt a vein pop. This isn't the place to get mad. I'm not going to fall for Malfoy's taunting. I'm not twelve anymore, and I think we both know this. Play it cool, keep your poker face: Unreadable.

I waved lightly to Pavarti to let her go and spare her more embarrassment, and then motioned for Draco to take a seat in front of my desk as I readjusted the glasses on my face, pushing the rimless lenses up. The jerk made himself at home quite rapidly.

"There was absolutely no need to be so rude to my employees, Malfoy."

"You look rather… Bookish," he mentioned, completely ignoring my remark.

"And you look snobbish as always, Malfoy. Nice seeing you again."

The acid dripping from my retort couldn't have been more obvious as I gave him a fixed stare, but Malfoy chose to ignore this as well. He knew something was pushing my red hot buttons, and he enjoyed watching, even if from afar.

"Why are you here? Or rather, what exactly is it you want?"

His lips tugged. They _tugged_ at the corner of his mouth! Had I blinked, I could have possibly missed it. It soon masked itself with a smirk. He kicked back, swung his legs up, and landed his extremely shiny and well kept designer shoes on my desk. His eyes were placed on me, my eyes on his shoes. I wrinkled my nose. The man always had to make sure to shove it in everyone's faces what the details of his lavish upbringing were, even if it was just a pair of shoes.

"I'll cut to the chase. It has come to the attention of the Ministry that the public has been… murmuring, or gossiping, that perhaps you're only Deputy Ministress because your daddy happens to be the Minister of Magic." His lips twisted into a far more obnoxious smirk, "and the Wizarding community is slightly worried that you might not be as… What was the word your dad said? Ah, yes…"

Draco put his fingers to his lips, "Yes…_Qualified_."

Oh how I wish I could have punched him, but I was too busy gaping. What's this idiot talking about? Really, now. He continued:

"Therefore, because the public doesn't think you as _qualified_ for office, your daddy has been forced to look for someone to take a job as a _second_ deputy in the meantime."

His steely eyes were set on me, the calm before a storm (that would never arrive) set upon his grayish eyes, sharp facial features set in what seemed to be a permanent expression. I had forgotten everything about Harry. My mind was too busy trying to piece together what Malfoy had said, and trying to find a way to wipe off that plastered smirk off of his self-gratified face. If anything, the only storm was inside of me.

Pulse. Throb.

"That said, having worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Mr. Weasley has found it best that I take a stab at the position of Minister – being clearly the best suited one for the job."

Throb.

Painful.

Contract.

"My duties right now lie in watching everything you do."

Throb.

A smirk.

Pop!

The urge to take a book and chuck it at his head was so tempting, so delicious, so violent and revengeful. I fear he was the one getting his revenge now. Why could I not just gouge his eyes out with my wand and get away scot-free? A deep breath was all I could muster. What was I supposed to say now, apart from 'get lost'? Perhaps if I looked at the calendar again, it'd be April 1st. Nope, still not April's fool's. How could my father not even tell me of this? A little warning would have done wonders, was all I could think of acidly.

I should not have gotten out of bed this morning, the thought flashed through my head in reproachful regret. Yet as soon as I opened my mouth to say something, Malfoy smirked. He looked undisturbed, either oblivious to my discomfort and the red face that spoke of silenced anger, or highly enjoying it in his own sadistic ways.

"I mean _everything_, Weasley."

My eyes navigated towards the clock, his towards the crumpled note on my desk. It was 6PM.

Everyone had gone home, and I was here, stuck in my office, feeling completely stupid in front of Malfoy. Was this supposed to be my fate where this man was involved? He kept watching me impassively as I collected my papers from a desk that had not been touched for work purposes. The holes on the desk from my pen told a story that was not about work productivity. And he still watched impassively, like he promised he would.

This wasn't time to worry about Malfoy and dilly dally around, however. I had a husband… or soon to be ex-husband, actually, to talk to.

"I will speak to you tomorrow, Malfoy. For now, it's time you go home."

The words came tartly out of my mouth, and the last image I saw at the familiar pull on my stomach was that of a Draco Malfoy dressed in expensive robes, with an ego too big to be contained in his body.

Apparating left me queasy. Not because of the apparition itself, but because I was standing in front of Harry's flat. Feeling nervous, and angry, and a nerve wreck. Ready to cry a river while blindly hexing everyone in my path. Upset and with so many questions that were still unanswered. To say I wanted to just hide my head under the ground was a slight understatement. I had told Harry the night before that I'd be working late, but holding back was not an option. Not now.

I walked in quietly. I might have wanted to break down the door… but that wasn't wise.

A noise.

From his room.

A woman's voice.

The door creaked open, ending with a slam against the opposite wall. There was a woman on him, bouncing in ecstacy, back bare and head thown back, with long locks of hair flowing down. Harry heard the door slam open and jolted up-right, with a deer in headlights look on his face. I could only stare back, probably the same stupid expression on my own.

How..could he..?

Her husband…

No. Not her husband.

I'm lucky that I survived with my jaw still intact. I could have sworn it nearly detached itself from my face and fell to the ground the moment the woman turned around. The nasty feeling in my stomach intensified, and turned into an even nastier twist that brought me back to reality. I felt nauseated.

"_Pavarti?!"_

"_Ginny, I can explain!" _both Harry and Pavarti called in unison, jumping apart from each other.

_So this is why Harry Potter wanted a divorce so badly..._ it was all I could think of.

Did they really think I was so stupid?!

Yes, definitely NOT her husband anymore.

A loud crack was heard, making my gaze and that of the cheating bastard and his backstabbing concubine disconnect from one another. Draco Malfoy stood there, suitcase in his arm.

"You forgot thi—"

It took no longer than two seconds for Draco to register what was going on. He looked at me, my eyes filled with furious tears, and very unlike himself, offered his arm. Whatever was going through his mind, whatever spell made him turn around, and offer his arm, I'm grateful. Maybe someone used the Imperius curse on him... At this point in time, I didn't care.

"Would you like to go?"

My gaze turned to Harry and Pavarti. All I felt was hate, and disgust. A few million showers would never be enough to make me feel clean for a while. I wanted to run up to her, choke Pavarti to death on Harry's manhood, and then cut her hair and hang harry from the nearest window with it. I wanted to see them suffer; I wanted to see them cry. But I didn't do a thing.

Instead, I turned, gazed at Draco's arm and took it.

"I would love to."

I had to get out.

***

A/N:

This is not by any means my first story, but it is the first one I'm thinking of perhaps taking to the next level and writing into a full-blown fic (Think 30+ chapters). Due to my obviously narcissistic and self conscious self, however, I will only do that if I get enough feedback from readers.

I'm also aware Ginny sounds slightly mary sue-ish, however, but I swear it'll change.

Another note:English is **NOT** my first language. ;-; I'm still learning, so please do forgive the random shit that might not make sense in my stories...


	2. Reminiscence

_**Reminiscence**_

The silence was...fierce, if you could somehow manage that. It was awkward, it was thick and intense... it was suffocating to the point where if I stuck my tongue out, I could taste it. It reeked of anger, confusion, resentfulness, and even a bit of regret. But I don't think it could compare to the stench in my mind from witnessing such a touching moment with Potter and his Indian whore. Like I _needed _to see that! I snorted derisively; and all those years of him meddling in my business? Oh, rest assured, I'm milking _this _incident for all it's worth soon enough.

The moment we walked out of Potter's cardboard box for a flat, I dropped her arm. It felt like hot coals against flesh, and I hurried away from the closeness like a plague. The woman gave me an intrigued look, but went back into her mental reverie while we walked somewhere. Inside me, the internal clock was ticking on a countdown. How long until she broke, since she no doubt would?

Three.

Two.

"I can't believe his bloody guts!" Ginny screamed like a banshee.

_Figures_ - there we go. Thankfully for me and _un_fortunately for her, her screams don't kill. They were damn near going to leave me deaf, though. But really, maybe that would be a good idea; actually having to _be _here and _listen_ to her inevitable rants about her good-for-nothing idiot of a husband doesn't sound too appealing. Weasley could have looked like a banshee, at any rate. A very pissy banshee. That face of hers blanched nicely to boot, barely two minutes after escaping Potter's humble abode. Her facial expression seemed saddened; the woman always wore her damn heart on her sleeve.

She never learns her lesson. And I'm not just talking about her blasted _feelings_.

We entered some sad excuse for a café, still not saying a word. I kept looking at her lips as she spoke after we had sat down, but her words weren't reaching me. She looked so damned beside herself about the whole fiasco that I would have been ill if I wasn't concerned about gagging and making a fool of myself in public. Her body language screamed at me enough all the nonsense bullshit about loving Potter that I _clearly _didn't want to hear about.

Maybe I really did get my deaf wish; sitting here, watching her lips quiver and splutter and kiss the air around her. My eyes drew a line to her ears; they were blood red. Furious, embarrassed; I didn't know which she was, probably both, but her ears looked very, very warm. Even her neck was crimson, obviously tense. A lick of anyone's tongue there would burn. Hmph...

When was the last time I saw her like this?

_The halls were empty, again. And they would be for a while. Even though Hogwarts had opened its doors to students right after the war, with the promise of peace and rebirth, many of us didn't have the fortune of having that promise fulfilled. McGonagall, bent on duty as usual, said everyone who wished to return could do so – with the condition we repeat our previous year._

_Our dear Headmistress' crackpot speech echoed my mind, "Because everyone deserves a _proper_ education!"_

_Proper education my arse._

_I couldn't help but notice just how desolated it all looked. Almost fit the mood of those who were around. Then again, it was an hour past bedtime. Lights hadn't gone out completely, but some of the halls weren't well lit anyway. But it's not like I expected more out of this ancient ass establishment, anyway._

_I walked these same old halls, images of the war that summer in my head. And then it hit me._

_Or, rather, _something_ hit me. What the hell? It was dark, no one should be out here! Nevermind _me _being out here, of course. Hell, I had the right!_

_In a matter of seconds I heard a loud thud and tangling of robes, as if someone had got their feet snatched in them and fallen. Some kind of wail followed, like they were _really _dying when all their clumsy ass did was trip. All I felt was some hair brush against me as I staggered back against the wall. _

"_Fourty points from whatever house you bloody belong to--" What sort of idiot would walk after hours? _

_I took my wand out. I needed light: just so I could see who the hell needed some hexing. _

"_...Malfoy?"_

"_Lumos." _

_In front of me lay a heap of dark robes and an extremely hard to miss redhead among them. _

"_Weasley!" People knew me for not having a temper, but that was far from the truth. Especially _now _of all times. "What the hell are you doing walking the halls this late at night?! If you don't stop walking around like an oaf just like your brothers did, you'll end up killed!"_

_Ginny stared. _

_A pang came back. _

_I shouldn't have said that._

_The lights were dark, but I swear I could see the expression on her face..._

"Malfoy!"

Well fuck; I'd gone and nearly dozed off while staring at her lips. If they had been athletes, they probably would have ran miles by now with her endless tales of her Potter woes. I really didn't give a damn about what she had to say at the moment. She probably had spewed her heart out about how despicable old saint Potter was. Well, she didn't need a brain surgeon to tell her that, or maybe she _did;_ I've been telling for years, and she was _just_ noticing? Please.

"Did you hear a word I said?" _Oh, _the accusation was just _oozing _from her eyes and tone...

"Whatever your reasons are to confide in me about such matters of the...heart...are beyond me, Weasley."

The woman had the gall to glare back at me, like I was supposed to be interested in her tirade! Of _course_ I didn't hear a word she said! Why would I _possibly_ need to listen to how much she loved that buffoon? Really, if there was any other way that I could be somewhere other than sitting in a small café, staring ahead at a _very_ characteristically disgruntled Ginerva Weasley, I would take the easy way out. I ought to. But I suppose it's nice to be in the company of someone who's finally realizing their distaste in supposed heroes.

That note on her desk earlier did look rather curious to me; my unsatisfied curiosity got the best of me, I'm afraid. And then curiosity turned into something _much_ sweeter, much more _morbid_. I wanted to see the look on Weasley's face, and the awkwardness between her and Potter; that's what drove me to follow her. No I didn't give a damn about some rubbish of _rectifying _her situation. Hardly; I was far more interested in getting a front row seat to the inevitable show. I knew where she was headed; even an idiot wouldn't have missed that tiny point. The delightful thought of seeing Harry hurt, however small had been, drove me towards apparating to a place where I had every business being.

I assume the old Draco in me had awoken, if it ever really fell asleep to begin with. Sitting here, feeling my lips curl up at Potter's situation...hmm. Nope; it never did. The old Draco, new Draco; whichever - _I_ would never miss a beat at being able to see some discomfort on the prodigy seeker and Hogwarts' poster child. At the moment I had thought it was a _brilliant_ idea. A Weasley's temper, after all, could be just as entertaining as the late Weasley Brothers' fireworks gone awry.

The supposedly more mature Draco, however, was completely regretting it. Brilliant idea my well pampered Malfoy rear; the woman was leering at me like an explosion had damn near gone off in her eyes. I had a feeling that maybe, just maybe I'd bitten a lot more than I could chew with this whole situation. And why the hell was _I _being looked at as if it was _MY_ fault?!

"Well, are you listening?"

_"Hardly."_

Weasley let out such an _adorable_ grunt and crossed her arms under her chest like I'd denied giving her sweets. Charming. Just like that chest of hers. My eyes couldn't help but travel there, but I quickly tore them away. This isn't really the time to be staring at her chest; maybe later. If I just as much as breathed wrong, the woman would no doubt have my hide, and I wasn't fool enough to deny it. If I stared at her chest, I'm afraid a Dementor's kiss might be sweeter a punishment than Ginny's preferred methods of revenge.

Revenge...

_"Weasel, what're you doing?" I said, breath jagged and heart racing. The girl was being irrational. Well hell,_ I_ was being irrational! Insulting her brothers probably wasn't the wisest thing to do, but I did it automatically. I always do. What if someone saw me? Especially now.._

_Ginerva Weasley, in her own firey outburst, pinned me against a wall and my brain was starting to lose control. Her grip on my robes was tight and her grip on my mind was even tighter. Like always... _

_Every. Single. Time; it happens. I try to tell myself I despise the girl, and it only works for a time. Especially then; her heaving breath was warm, moist on my chin. It smelled of ginger...probably nicked something from the kitchens, no doubt. But focusing on that threw me completely off guard; the girl swung her damn fist at me! I held onto some drop of awareness I had from hearing the air ripple for a fraction of a second before I grabbed her arm. _

_She'd gone mental! Weasley tried to punch me again, looking a little _too _thirsty for my blood! This blasted girl went from 0 to bloody bitch in two seconds. I knew she was too high on her rage, and I needed to get the hell away from her... NOW! By now I then I knew that her anger could make her do funny things; anyone who had an ounce of intelligence could realize that with one look at the red _crown_ she has for hair on her head... But something was in her veins right now, and...whatever it was, it seemed to have blinded her to the point of shoving her nemesis against a wall and punching him like it was the thing to do!_

_That ginger kept me pinned here; her heat and fire and fury and intensity_ _kept me grounded. Ginny Weasley was kicking me and slapping me with tears were running down her cheeks.. and at some point between my screams that she should stop, and that I was sorry for mentioning her dead brothers, and her own struggling, she ran out of energy and just...slumped there. Her breath was hot, and fast, and was coming out in short hiccups. She was slumped against my body, her chest heaving against my own. The beating of her heart would sync with mine every so often...She had cried herself to sleep._

_The halls were dark.  
_

_And I couldn't push her away..._

"Draco!"

That damned shrill voice of hers cut through my memories. She looked far better than when I last saw her four years ago, I must say. Her freckles were faint, almost gone. She'd grown into her own body as a woman. She looked business-like, in her clean cut, well ironed clothes, high red heels and a matching red purse to contrast her black knee-length skirt and coat. If I didn't know any better, I could almost believe she came from a well-off family. _Almost._

At the thought of Ginny Weasley actually coming from such a background, I didn't know whether to laugh or shudder. The woman would never get anywhere in society with a temper such as hers. And to my relief, she wasn't. Otherwise I would've had to grow up suffering through her company, since my parents always said that connections should be made among the wealthy and powerful.

"Wease--.." a cough, "Ehm, Weasley. What is it you want out of sitting me here listening to your incessant wailing?"

It wasn't that I was an ass; I just wasn't going to give her the courtesy of being helpful for her tonight. I was courteous enough now because I would have to put up with her until I took the position as a Minister (I would not give her that), but I wasn't going to actually going to be..._friendly._

"Why did you..?"

"Did I what? Stop beating around the bush."

"Back there, you saved me from embarrassment. You took me out of there.." Her eyes scanned my face as if it was some sort of unreadable diary, with a lock to which she had no key. "Why?"

I kept my silence. Honestly, I'm not sure _why_ I did it. I just _did._ To tell the truth: I shouldn't have. It was a mistake. Sitting here with her and putting up with mild chit-chat obviously wasn't on my list of consequences from all of this mess.

"Well?"

"Must I explain my actions to you, Weasley? If I went off giving reasons about everything I do to everyone..."

The woman stared. Hard. But she gave up trying to figure it out, thankfully. At that point, she leaned back in her chair and confusion was replaced by a sly look that I knew perfectly well, one that I myself had even perfected. It was mischief, and it was not the fun kind. She started ignoring me, as if I was just an invisible panel through which she could see ahead, as if she was alone. She bit down on her pinky nail and frowned. I knew the look in her eyes - it was the look of hatred. Pure hatred.

"I want him to suffer."

"Pardon me?"

"I want my revenge."

Revenge...

_"Draco, I need to tell you something."_

_Time had passed since that encounter in the halls, nearly a year now. I gave her a smile and wrapped my arms around her little waist. Ginny might not be the most beautiful thing on earth, with the perfect body and the amazing fashion sense, but she still had a way of reeling me in. She was hated by other girls, and it didn't bother her. Not because she was in any way beautiful, but because she was with Draco. _Me. _The war had changed some things among students, but old habits die harder than old rules. And yet here I was: I was in love with none other than a Weasley.  
_

_I kissed her cheek, and she moved her bag in front of her protectively._

_"What is it, Ginny?"_

_She had never done that._

_"I... Draco," her eyes looked sad, and worried. Preoccupation masked her pretty little face, not a hint of happiness to see me this time around._

_"I need to tell you something."_

_"Can it wait? I have something to say, too."_

_For me to ever smile openly was a rarity. The only people who ever, _ever _saw that smile were now either dead or far away. But I'd learned in a few months to be able to give her that smile. I reached into my robes without her noticing, there was something I wanted to say... Something that would change...everything._

_"No, it can't wait." she fidgeted, looked down, and shifted from foot to foot. The girl refused to look into my eyes. _

_I stopped._

_"...Well?"_

_"I.." Ginny fidgeted some more, hiding herself with her bag. And her hand. "Well...It's over, Draco."_

_A glimpse of sun against something, against the rock on her ring finger, and it became obvious._

_"I'm back with Harry, Draco..."_

_Ginny avoided my eyes, she turned on her heel, and forgot to even let me have my say. She let me standing like a bloody fool with a dumbstruck look on my face. All I could do was stare. He had dumped her _twice_, and she was back with him! And engaged! Good bloody Lord, TWICE! The masochistic little broad was back with the man who kept on hurting her, on excuses that he wasn't ready to commit, that the war had left him empty and hurt and confused. Yet, she went back to him like a little lamb every time he called!_

_TWICE._

_I clutched the box inside my pocket, hiding my own pride away with the ring inside of it. _

_This is what happened every time I opened up an inch. Well..._

Never again, Ginerva bloody Weasley. Not this time. Like they always say - what goes around comes around. I did it twice, what did she expect this time around? What did she want? She wanted revenge.

The images from that memory swirled inside my mind, and cold fury started bubbling unseen again. I'd forced myself to forget, forced the dirty little muggle lover out of my system...and she came crashing back. Why didn't I let her suffer through the repercussions of her actions?

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, Weasley."

She looked at me and smiled, almost innocently, yet I knew it was different. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"And that way it's so much sweeter, Malfoy."

I gave her a once over; she was too deep in her own plotting to try and read me. A smirk came back on my lips, hidden by the rim of my drink, while she stared at her own glass of firewhiskey. I had connections, I had witnessed the beloved Harry Potter screwing Ginny's assistant, and I had time.

_Don't worry, little Lamb, you'll get your revenge. And I'll get mine._

_

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Author's Note:

So here it is, the first chapter! After several days of plotting and going around on how to write what Draco had to say. I hope you enjoy it, and a reminder:** Your words make me a better writer, and your feedback counts! So get off your tushie, log on, and review, please? It'd be highly appreciated.**

Thank you to my beta, I really do not know what I'd do without you, honey. :3 Keep on being as amazing as you are.

Yes, Draco's an ass. But that's the way we all love him anyway.

Until then!

And seeing as it's only a few days until the next year, Happy New Year~ May all your wishes (hopefully) come true.


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